


smile, you're being watched

by toojuns



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, College, Cute, Drinking, First Meetings, Friendship, M/M, Surveillance, Utopia, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toojuns/pseuds/toojuns
Summary: It's Mark's job to report the breach of security happening on his screen—even if it's as ridiculous as six boys trying to steal a shopping cart.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 15
Kudos: 190
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	smile, you're being watched

There's a common misconception that the red light beaming on the surveillance camera means that it's on.

It's not. The camera is _always_ on; the little red dot is nothing but an illusion so people can think they still control their lives. Mark knows better than this; he knows the minute he steps out of the office, he's not a watcher anymore.

Once he leaves the building, Mark is nothing but a 22-year-old that got the job in surveillance because his uncle is in the team— _if you're not going to college, you have to get a job_ , at least that was the norm in Mark's household.

Being a watcher isn't all that bad, though. Sure, Mark sometimes gets night terrors from undisclosed situations he had to keep a secret from regular citizens like his parents, but he learned to manage them. Being a watcher means keeping track of public spaces—and some privates, which is the real reason his department is hated—to make sure everyone is following the proper rules and not getting hurt. 

Since the government established the surveillance team back when Mark wasn't even born yet, violent crimes went down significantly—it's harder to commit any crime when skilled behaviorists record the population—and petty thefts were easier to control. After a few years, the city's crime rate was down to one per thousand—and it only came with the small price of having their freedom bridged from them. If having some camera follow Mark to the supermarket meant they could stop a murder from happening, he thought it was worth it.

It had always been that simple in his mind—people can't be trusted, so the safest thing to do would be to keep track of everyone at all times. This means the red dot under the cameras is nothing but a distraction, a false sense of security. 

From what Mark heard, the story came to be as a prank some of his elders created decades ago; tired of being scrutinized for the surveillance and protection of others, they made the tale of the red light.

If the light was on, it meant someone was surveilling the area; if the light was off, that area was deemed safe for that day. The truth is no space had ever stopped being surveilled since the program started; Mark and his colleagues took turns to work, sometimes staying on the job for days without stop. 

So no, Mark is aware his cameras still work even if the red light isn't on—most of his worst days happen when the light fades, and people think they're finally alone—, but most people do not know that.

The group of guys Mark's watching certainly don't know it. He keeps track as one of them breaks into dancing in the middle of an empty supermarket, the others egging them on. Mark's unsure if he should call the police or tell his friends that they're _back_.

"Yukhei," he calls the boy sitting in front of him, glued to his own set of screens. Yukhei doesn't need to lift his head up and see Mark's expression to know what this is about; they've been through this so many times that by now it's standard.

The smile that paints Yukhei's face mirrors the excitement on Mark's, "No way," he says, "let me see it."

Mark never _looks_ for trouble, but these things never seem to respect his wishes; he is a magnet for all things unfortunate, which is why he witnessed some awful incidents on the first week of his job—a dude jacking off in an empty subway, parents intentionally forgetting their child in the middle of a shopping mall. Mark reported all of those, and he would do so much more often than he thought was expected; every type of misbehavior in his book would get him to call the police on the perpetrators.

In only a few months, due to him being unlucky, Mark flew through the ranks, reaching notoriety in a way he isn't sure he can be proud of. No one really wants to be the guy who stops public transgressions—that's a sort of trauma Mark doesn't want to have, no matter how advanced the government's psychiatric field is.

There's nothing that sets Mark apart from the others; it's not like he's trying to excel at his job—honestly, he just wants to get by— and being there wasn't his first choice. But he _needs_ the money, and he can't complain if getting attention gets him closer to his goals. 

The first time it happens, Mark is taking a shower. 

Although the surveillance team has one of the government's largest budgets, they're still highly understaffed—it's almost impossible to train people into behaviorism and get them to sign a twenty-four-hour contract, with most of their holidays being spent looking at others celebrate it through cameras. 

Therefore, most of Mark's peers live in the dorm near their office, one the department crafted for them. When Mark's nights become softer, with mostly young lovers rushing through the streets and singing songs, he takes his time in the shower, washing away all the pent-up stress from waiting around to catch the worst of humanity on his designated screens. 

Since Mark is still, technically, on the job, he has to wear his watch to the shower, and that's how he notices something is wrong. That day, the buzzing and beeping were too erratic, so he scrambles to turn the water stream off, put anything on and run to his post. 

Only to find six boys trying to steal a shopping cart. 

The image of it all is pretty ridiculous; they are dressed in flashy colors too, so there's no way they wouldn't get spotted. Even without his headphones, Mark could tell they were loud, and bold, and happy. 

"I think you're scared," Mark hears one of the guys say when he put on his headphones, the boy was beaming with excitement, "come on, let's race."

"Shut up, Donghyuck." 

Mark watches as they got three shopping carts and play rock, paper, scissors to assign the teams. 

"Jesus man," one of his colleagues, Taeil, says when he notices Mark dripping wet looking at the cameras, shirt sticking to his body, "what happened? Is someone in trouble?"

It's an honest question. No one gets out of the shower like Mark did if they didn't have an emergency in their hands—and Mark's sure this could still count as one since those boys are breaking the rules. 

But perhaps it is the laughter that made him eat his words; he had to say something that night as he saw those boys for the first time; they could've gotten hurt; it could be dangerous. 

Mark needs to say something. 

Instead, he is mesmerized by their freedom. 

"Some birds set off the alarm," Mark lies as he watches the boys almost crash into each other and fall to the ground laughing. 

The next time he sees any of them, Mark freaks out a little. 

He figured that wouldn't be the last time he saw those boys, especially since they think they weren't caught on camera breaching curfew, but Mark didn't know he would see one of them on the rooftop of the supermarket— _how did he even get there?_

And the boy is standing close to the edge, looking over to his wristwatch and mindlessly walking on the border—his feet are larger than the space he could use for support, and Mark sees the guy almost lose his balance, urging him into action. 

"Hey," Mark tried his best to keep his voice low, "stop that, you're going to get hurt."

The boy, the one Mark recognized as Donghyuck, gets so startled he almost _does_ fall off the rooftop, and Mark has his hand on the emergency button when Donghyuck manages to regain composure. 

Mark himself is shocked, maybe he could get secondhand adrenaline from watching this boy fuck everything up, but he only realizes _he_ is breaching guidelines when his mic is already on.

_Fuck._

"Oh my god," Donghyuck says, shock painting his features, "it's not a robot."

The speakers attached to the cameras were only meant for public announcements, sometimes to alert someone of a possible accident, but they were all done within the protocol. No watcher could ever address a civilian casually, not even if their life was in danger. 

Mark fucked up, which was evident from the expression on the boy's face and all the curse words going through Mark's head. 

"Yeah," he scanned the room; luckily, his peers were focused on their own screens and headphones, some making their own announcements, so the room was far from quiet, "now get out of there."

The boy stops in his tracks and glares at the camera; Mark feels seen.

"No."

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Tell me something about yourself, and I'll leave."

"You're not in a position to negotiate."

The boy decides to ignore the robotic voice talking to him and keeps on walking on the rooftop border, losing his balance on purpose this time so Mark's heart would beat faster. 

"I'm Mark," he gives up. 

"I'm Haechan," the boy smiles. 

"I know your name Donghyuck," Mark sighs, amused and annoyed by the tenacity he's seen that day. 

"Are you going to sell me out to the cops, Mark?"

Mark wants to tell him that, technically, Mark is kind of a cop too, so it's his job to report what is going on. Instead, he decides to bargain back, "if you get out in three seconds, no, I won't."

"How can I be sure of it?"

"One," Mark says over the microphone and watches as Donghyuck scrambled to leave the area, "two."

He follows the boy on his screen until he can't anymore. 

Mark keeps tabs on all of them, and by the second week, he already knows all of their names. He also knows Jisung is helplessly in love with Chenle, Renjun accidentally slashed Jeno's bike tires when he used it without Jeno's knowledge, and Jaemin and Donghyuck are planning to cheat in their next college test.

Yukhei sometimes joins him in watching that group, making bets about when they would show up in the parking lot again. For the first time since he got the job, Mark liked the situation he was in.

He also starts to blatantly cover for them, shutting down the lights when cops' cars pass by their street or calling for backup to the other side of town when they get too close to any of the boys. 

Sometimes, when no one is paying attention, Donghyuck would stare at the camera and smile—Mark didn't know if he was overly confident or if he was just taking a guess, but he found himself smiling back. 

"Mark, are you there?" he hears Donghyuck ask. This time, it's just him on the rooftop again, legs dangling by the edge and causing Mark's heart rate to spike. 

There's a moment in which Mark considers not responding, going on with his job, and changing the focus to another screen—but he had stared at Donghyuck ever since he set foot in Mark's watching ground that day, so he's a lost cause already.

"Yes," Mark replies, voice low so he wouldn't disturb his colleagues.

"Is your voice that deep, or are you trying to sound mysterious?"

"I'm not supposed to be talking to you, Donghyuck."

"I'm not supposed to be up here," Donghyuck states, "but look at us."

"The speaker distorts my voice," Mark answers, "that way, you won't know who I am if we ever meet."

"And have we met before, Mark?"

He stops his next comment, wanting to be cheeky and get under this boy's skin, and replies, "no."

"Bummer," Donghyuck tells him, "it would've been cool if we had already met."

Mark's stomach churns, and he decides not to eat dinner that day, thinking maybe the food from the cafeteria made him sick. 

The day Mark speaks to all of them at once is the same day Donghyuck finally manages to fall from the rooftop. 

They are trying to light fireworks, and Mark is, yet again, close to telling them to stop—it would be harder to sweep under the rug a display of colors dancing in the night sky, and Mark needs to not get fired. 

"How about the rooftop?" Chenle asks, mouth filled with giggles and soda Mark's sure they stole. 

"I'm not going up there," Jisung protests, followed by Jaemin telling everyone _no one_ would be going up there. 

"I'll go," Donghyuck says, grabbing the bag with fireworks and climbing the emergency stairs outside the building. 

The night was colder than most; Mark could perceive it from their breaths and Jeno's shivering body. Still, Donghyuck went through with it, ignoring his friends and the icy rigidness the metal staircase provided, the whole structure creaked with unbearable noises, and Mark could see it all before it even happened. 

Unfortunately, Mark didn't get to tell them it was a bad idea—Jaemin himself had already done that—because Donghyuck, stubborn as he was, slips from the frozen stair and lands on his back.

Moments like that are usually in slow motion; Mark had been a watcher for too long, and he could see the accident before it even happened. This time, it doesn't. This time it happens too fast, and he can't seem to find his voice, trapped somewhere inside his body, as he watches this boy descend into the cold concrete. 

This one boy who he has watched for weeks and grown attached to, this one boy he couldn't help when he needed to. 

It took them all a moment to realize what happened, as Donghyuck's friends watch him fall from the one-story building to the concrete ground, legs at weird angles. 

It takes them another moment until they can start frantic running to where Donghyuck is, where he is still not moving. 

When Donghyuck tries to get up, his legs not complying with the rest of his body, Mark lets out his breath—lungs begging for oxygen—, and Donghyuck a scream. 

"Donghyuck, can you hear me?" Mark says through the speaker, hands shaking, and it causes the rest of the boys to freeze in shock and horror, "Jeno, make sure he doesn't move."

"What the fuck?" He hears Chenle say.

"What's going on?"

"Fucking do it, Jeno!" Renjun screams. 

"I'm sending an ambulance to your address," Mark tells them, and he sees Donghyuck try to swat Jeno's arms away from him, "it's okay, it's gonna be okay."

He doesn't know if he's telling that to himself or to the boy he had been warning to be careful for weeks now. 

The ambulance comes in less than ten minutes, and Mark watches as they load Donghyuck into it, and he changes surveilling areas with Hendery when he realizes his friend is in charge of the hospital Donghyuck is in.

"Hey, Mark?"

Donghyuck is sitting by himself in his hospital room, a brand new cast on his leg and a remote for his bed he hasn't stopped pressing in the last fifteen minutes. 

"Yes, Donghyuck?"

Donghyuck smiles, "I'm glad you're a snitch and all, but I think this is getting too one-sided."

"What do you mean?"

"You know where I live, what I look like, my name, and all I know is that you're Mark, and that could be an alias."

There is something about how Donghyuck says that, as if he is waving a contract, and he knows his side is in favor. For all he knew, Mark should be in control, but that never felt entirely right with Donghyuck—this one boy, who Mark could put in jail with a single phone call, always held his ground. Donghyuck oozed confidence in a way that is obnoxious; he looks mighty even on a hospital bed with his legs suspended by wires. 

"Minhyung," Mark replies, "everyone calls me Mark, though."

"Nice to meet you, Minhyung," Donghyuck looks at the camera and scrunches his face, "I like Mark better."

Mark wants to tell him he finds Donghyuck a stupid name—even though he didn't—but Mark sees Donghyuck's mom enter the room and stops pressing the button to speak. The woman had her hair wet and clothes ready for work. 

"Are you going to be okay by yourself?" She asks her son, sitting on the edge of his bed, "do you want me to call Renjun?"

"Minhyung is coming to visit me," Mark hears Donghyuck say, "I just got off the phone with him, he said he's going to be here in twenty." 

Donghyuck's phone isn't even visible on the cameras, so Mark doesn't know if his lie is all that believable—still, Donghyuck tells it like it is. 

"Minhyung?"

"A friend from college," Donghyuck tells his mom, "you don't know him."

"Well, that's good then," she says, "I'll be back as soon as my shift is done, okay?"

"Yeah, mom," the boy reassures her, "I'll be okay, Minhyung will keep me entertained."

Mark isn't sure if Donghyuck is giving his mother a safe way out or if he's giving Mark an ultimatum; it's smart because his mother doesn't even know Mark, so she can't call him and ask how things are going, but at the same time, Donghyuck is going to be alone for a few hours, and he wanted to meet the boy behind the cameras.

"Hey," Mark kicks Yukhei under the table they share; Yukhei looks at him as if he's going to murder Mark, "can you cover for me for a few hours?"

"Can you bring me bacon-flavored popcorn when you come back?"

"Sure."

"Then yeah," Yukhei says, lifting his screens so he could accommodate them all on his side of the table, "go."

And Mark Lee, a twenty-two-year-old boy, civilian the moment he left the building, never ran so fast in his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you mods for this wonderful round and than you for reading it!  
> I hope you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment or kudos :D
> 
> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/toojuns)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/toojuns)


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